


What Works

by AidanChase



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson isn't good at facing his problems, and honestly, his family is just a bunch of enablers--who help in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Works

**Author's Note:**

> just an exploration of dick's relationship with his family when he's feeling down

Dick Grayson generally wore his heart on his sleeve.

"No I don't," he protested once. "I don't really show it when I'm upset. I'm pretty happy-go-lucky most of the time," and he smiled.

Kori had snorted in response--amusement and disbelief rolled into one.

It wasn't that Dick hid his feelings well. Really, he was just particularly good at was avoiding confrontation. If you hadn't seen or heard from Dick in a week, he was probably pretty upset with you and didn't want to tell you.

So while he was avoiding whoever he was upset with (or whoever he thought was upset with him), he was busy sulking somewhere else. And because he was Dick Grayson, and he had an insatiable need for human affection, he was usually sulking near someone else.

Damian had trouble dealing with that at first. Dick would sit down in the training room and watch him practice. It unnerved him. And whenever he asked, "Do you want to spar?" Dick would just shake his head. After a few exasperated tries, Damian learned that, "I need a sparring partner," was much more effective than the request. And even though Dick was rarely at peak form, his mood considerably perked up during the match. Sometimes he even won.

Tim had learned a similar approach to Damian's, but much more quickly. When Dick chose to sulk around Tim in the work room, he always refused when Tim asked, "Do you want to help?" But if Tim asked, "What do you think about rewiring the pressure sensors on these flash bombs into a timer?" Dick would have a quick answer and a philips-head screwdriver ready to go.

Stephanie had a much harder time understanding Dick's moods than any of them. He wandered into the kitchen while she was making popcorn once, and she asked if he wanted any.

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

She'd asked if he wanted to marathon Netflix with her, and he shook his head. She asked if he'd like to just watch a movie instead and he'd said no. She was so confused by the lack of his usual enthusiasm she was convinced he was upset with her.

"I'm sorry, Dick, I don't know what I--"

He looked puzzled. "I'm fine."

But he was obviously not fine, and she vented about it to Barbara that evening.

"I don't even--ugh, he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, his stupid pouts--how can a grown man pout like that? God," she sighed.

"I'll talk to him," Barbara said quietly.

"No, you don't need to get in the middle of this. Whatever it is, it's between me and him--"

"No, he's upset with me because I told him Bruce wanted him off the Deathstroke case, and when he tried to convince me to let him go behind Bruce's back, I told him I agreed with Bruce. I'll talk to him."

"So why did he go to me? Why doesn't he talk to you or Bruce about it?" Steph huffed and put her hands on her hips. "How old is he again?"

"Old enough that he should know better than to sulk like he's fifteen," she said with a small smile. "But he doesn't realize he's doing it."

"Someone should tell him."

"Believe me, I've tried."

But there wasn't much to do when Dick sulked except distract him until he had enough mental distance from his problems to face them more objectively. Stephanie finally learned that, "I'm watching Avengers; come with me. Here's some popcorn," worked much better than her first attempt.

Cassandra was the only one who understood right away. And her methods of helping Dick were to convince him to talk about it, no matter how reluctant he was. Luckily, a simple word like, "Talk," would be enough.

Sometimes talking helped. Sometimes he breathed easier after his conversations with Cassandra. Or, sometimes he left feeling worse and went to sulk with someone else.

On the worst nights, when he couldn't stand to be in the manor, he'd find Jason. After the two of them exchanged the usual formalities--knocking each other off rooftops and into small explosions in dark alleys--and after they were too exhausted to even trade blows, they'd share drinks and reheated pizza.

Dick came home from those nights very bruised and broken, but when Alfred helped patch him together, Dick was much more receptive to advice about his problems, between the scoldings of course.

When he would come to Barbara, she was usually working. Actually, it felt like she was always working. But more than anyone else, she understood his need for physical contact. She let him curl up next to her like a cat would. He'd rest his head in the crook of her neck and watch her work while she absentmindedly played with his hair. And she'd let him gently just run his fingers over the back of her hand. She would work, and he would think. It was the simplest of arrangements. The only reason he didn't choose Barbara very often was because she was likely the reason he was so upset in the first place.

But the worst offender, more than Barbara, was Bruce. Dick and Bruce fought so often that he rarely ever went to Bruce for comfort. Even if he tried, it would often end in a fight.

But there were rare days. Days when Bruce was either too tired or too focused to scold Dick. And Dick could sit next to him in the infirmary, or by the computer, or on the couch. Like Barbara, Bruce was usually reading or researching, which was fine. Dick didn't mind. As long as he could sit next to him, like when he was a child, and on the best nights, he would fall asleep that way, and wake up more clear-headed than he might've with anyone else.


End file.
